I don’t even know how long I was asleep after I woke up the first time, when I did wake up, while there was bright sunlight, it had that diffused look of sunlight through early autumn mist that makes everything look a little silvery, but when I looked at the clock on the wall, it was far too late in the day for that kind of mist to still be around. I groaned softly as I sat up, the blanket resting around my shoulders as I was sitting on my knees, I stretched my arms out as various joints snaped and popped like someone slowly rolling over bubble-wrap with a steamroller.

              I looked over to my side where the coffee table was; there was a box; maybe a foot or so wide by maybe two feet long and a few inches deep, made of a pale orange paper and closed with a metallic dark purple ribbon and bow, the orange had a slight texture to it that was brushed in gold and silver. There was a note beside it too that was just a piece of paper folded in thirds to make the little tent standee, the side facing me had Quinten across it in Calico’s swirling almost too nice to be legible handwriting. I picked up the note as I unfolded it to see what was written on the interior of the triangular prism of paper. His handwriting covered the interior as well, basically saying that I was free to sleep as much as I wished and various things of that sort, but he was down in the library because of work and that when he got back, he wanted to talk to me about getting me clothes and things of that sort, but he ended it with “I looked forward to hearing you play” which made me glance over to the box.

              “He…he didn’t” I said quietly as I was still sitting on my knees, sitting back on my heels as the blanket stayed on my shoulders, maybe it’s the fact I have goat legs or something, but sitting on my knees has always been far more comfortable than it should be. I set the note down as I reached over to the box, my fingers twitching a little at the idea of what could been in there. I used one of my claws to undo the ornately done bow and as I did, the ribbon pieces just fell away from the box revealing the box was the sections wrapped and then put together so it didn’t have to be fully unwrapped. I breathed deeply as I slowly lifted the lid of the box; inside was lined, not with a cushion or anything, but lined in black silk and occupying it…was a lyre: what hit my senses first was the scent of it; well treated mahogany that had that slightly chemically, but herbal and woody scent of varnish. It was teardrop, well…more egg shaped and had a flat back, as I looked at it; it was maybe twenty inches from top to bottom, maybe a foot and a half from side to side and based on how my thumb looked against the side, around three inches thick or so, thin notches along the top of the egg like shape, the wide part being the bottom, the small notches at the top adorned with gold tuning pegs that were shaped like a small curl of filigree, each capped in a small gold star. I ran my nail along the pegs as I counted the strings…there was 22 of them. The woodgrain visible through a…very distinctly colored glaze over the wood; it wasn’t a natural wood tone or anything, but instead a deep and vivid midnight blue, flecked with silver and gold, some flecks no bigger than a very fine glitter where others were larger ones that looked like gold or silverleaf had been mixed into the varnish, the swirls of the tones against the dark blue was beautiful, but made it almost appear like the night sky which was only enhanced by the very center of the lyre, behind the strings was a fairly large silver disk inlaid into the wood that appeared like the full moon. A thick ridge of silver was in an upward facing curve near the bottom as the bridge as the strings dipped into the bottom of it where they were mounted into. As I turned it, the entire outer side was adorned with these papery thin panes of silver fastened into the wood for either protection or structure, but it too was adorned with a vaguely night themed style of filigree, engraving and embossing it, fastened with gold studs at the edges of the panels. There were two gold hooks at the back for a strap to be fastened, which one already was, being a three point strap to keep it at the best height for prolonged playing, the strap wide and thick navy leather, the interior was an ivory fleece and there was a wider, thicker strap of silver leather on one section that would rest atop the shoulder matched by a small sleeve right above where it hooked onto where a matching navy tuning rod was, even the strap was adorned with small painted stars, moons and suns. It was…gorgeous, but it was also extremely expensive looking and feeling, mahogany is one of the best woods for them and usually the more strings, the more money, twenty two was the most I had ever seen on one before and it was at least a few grand online. With this level of detailing and without a doubt, real precious metals, giving what I know of Glimmerstand at least…my mind could not comprehend that I was holding it and part of me was wanting to set it down, fearing I was going to drop it.

              However, that part of my mind also couldn’t comprehend the…it was a weird emotion, a mixture of fear, but giddiness and also trepidation and other emotions that made me not know if I should put the lyre down or immediately start playing.

              I turned it over in my hands a few times, letting my fingertips slowly run along the soft texture of the engraving, embossing and other workings of the metal and wood of it, the soft texture of the strings and the extremely smooth and supple texture of the wood under that navy colored varnish. I adjusted the straps a little before taking the tuning rod out as I shimmied my shoulders to let the blanket fall away as I rested the strap over my shoulder, the lyre large enough that even when I was sitting on my knees, the bottom rested on my right knee, angled softly to my right and leaning against my chest as I breathed deeply as I closed my eyes and let my fingers run along the strings. Perfectly in tune on the standard scale, but…not how I play, I always tuned mine a little bit lower, my way of playing and all…it just is more fitting and natural for me to play with all of the notes tuned into a minor scale. I took the tuning rod out as I went string by string to properly tune them, part of the training bards go through at Paradise Academy is the development of perfect pitch, so even the most out of tune instruments can be corrected by us and various other reasons. I had always been a bit quicker at picking that up, my natural ability to recognize the notes and tones of what something was playing was always a little bit more accurate than my peers, so the class was generally a bit easy for me and people like sirens or banshee or other sound based magical beings, whereas others struggled intensely. Maybe it was because of how long it has been sense I’ve smiled naturally, but my face felt weird at a point as I was tuning everything into the scale I prefer. I couldn’t tell you when I last smiled properly.

              I sat back a little as I closed my eyes again, crossing my ankles under me as I ran my fingers along the strings, there we go…my fingers just started randomly plucking notes, testing how different techniques and styles of plucking the strings sounded and worked with this lyre, just feeling it out, feeling how the strings reacted or how the wood thrummed with each note so I could feel the idea of what I may need to shift or adapt for the limitations of this one. Probably because it was new, the wood and strings were a little stiff and colder sounding, but within a minute or two of random playing, the sound was full-bodied, warm and rich. I breathed deeply as I looked up towards the roof, my eyes stinging as I bit my lower lip…having something like this in my arms bringing a few tears to my eyes.